Muscle Memory

by Stylo Fantome

  So shortly after he got rid of Kitty, a little after midnight, he took off his suit jacket and put on a long trench coat. He didn't have an umbrella, but he didn't care. He turned up his collar and walked out into the rain.

  Times Square was only a few short blocks away. Her restaurant was at one end of it, sandwiched between Broadway and 7th Avenue. It was a popular chain and featured cheap drinks, so normally it was packed with tourists and local workers. Lucky for him, the cold snap and the rain were driving everyone away. So he settled in across the street from the restaurant, and he waited.

  It took about an hour. They closed up shop early. All the lights flickered out, one by one, then workers started pouring out a side entrance on 7th. He stood there for a while, but when the crowd thinned out and still no Delaney, he moved so he was facing up Broadway, where the front door was located.

  Ten minutes later, she came outside. She was wearing an over sized olive green jacket that he recognized as his, based on the pictures she'd shown him. She had an umbrella tucked under her arm and she was wrapping a scarf around her neck while she came to stand at the curb, almost directly across from Jon's hiding spot.

  A man came out after her, laughing at something she'd said. He locked the door in several places, then turned to Delaney. Pressed his hand to the small of her back, urging her down the cross street, and they started walking together.

  Jealousy swooped down on Jon with a startling ferocity. Who was this guy, and what the fuck did he think he was doing, touching Jon's property!? He clenched his fists and ground his teeth together.

  Then he realized what an absolute asshat he was being. Property!? Sometimes he had trouble remember her last name. Besides, he and Kitty had kissed in front of Delaney, so what business did he have being jealous of her walking home with a coworker?

  With his jealousy successfully handled, crazy came back into full effect. He glanced around, then dashed across the street and started following them.

  He kept about a block between them for what felt like forever. They walked a straight line, thankfully, but the rain didn't let up once. After about ten minutes, he was surprised to find they were in Hell's Kitchen, heading towards the water. Hell's Kitchen, he'd followed them to a completely different neighborhood. Jon fully realized how insane he was being. Tailing these two people, two coworkers, in the middle of the night. Ridiculous.

  He didn't want to let her go, though. Not now that he had her in his sights. He wanted her to give him a reason for her disappearance, wanted to hear it from her lips. So he started speeding up, lengthening his stride to catch up with them.

  That stretch of street was pretty dead. They were surrounded by crowded apartment buildings, but no one seemed to want to be outside. Only an adventurous raccoon was braving the night, stopping to sniff at some trash before scampering into a community garden. He watched the animal for a moment, then Delaney's voice caught his attention.

  “Stop it.”

  Jon stopped walking. He was pretty sure his heart even stopped for a second. She had her umbrella up and its rod balanced on her shoulder. The wide black circle covered her body clear down to her butt, so he hadn't noticed before, not when he'd been so far away. But now he could see how the guy kept trying to put his arm around her waist.

  Forget jealous. Cold, hard rage filled his veins and flooded his vision.

  “I said stop!” she suddenly yelled, turning on the guy and holding her umbrella in front of herself. “I agreed to come with you to your friends' house – not fuck you.”

  “You're such a tease, Del,” the guy laughed, reaching for her again. She jabbed the point of the umbrella into his chest.

  “Try and touch me one more time, see what happens,” she growled, closing the ribs of the accessory and twisting the black material shut around it.

  “What the fuck, Del? When I invited you tonight, I thought you knew what was going on!?” the guy snapped.

  “Yeah – I knew I'd been invited to a chill movie night with your friends! That's it, bro! Nowhere in that invitation did you mention sex was required!” she shouted at him.

  “What year are you living in? Why would I invite you if I thought you wouldn't sleep with me? Get the fuck outta here. C'mon, we can have a good time together. I promise,” he said, his words coated in slime as he slid his hands onto her hips.

  Even from a couple doors down, Jon saw the look that crossed over her face. Somehow, he knew what it meant. Knew her coworker should probably start running. Things were about to get ugly. He started walking again.

  “You get the fuck out of here!” she shouted, swinging the umbrella and hitting him in the arm. “And don't you ever” – she punctuated each pause with a swing – “fucking touch me ... again!”

  “Are you crazy!? Stop, you stupid bitch!” the guy shouted, then he shoved Delaney. So hard, she went reeling back into some wrought iron fencing that surrounded the garden.

  Jon's vision went red and he was on the guy in a second. No announcement, no shouting. He led with his right fist, slamming it across her coworker's face and sending him to the ground.

  “You don't fucking touch her!” he started screaming, grabbing the guy by the collar. This time he was at the right angle, and it was his left hand that threw the next punch. His dominant hand. All those workouts in the basement of the halfway house came into play, and the guy groaned in pain, spitting out blood as his head flew back.

  “Jayson!” Delaney gasped from behind him. He felt her grabbing at his shoulders, but he shook her off and got in another left hook.

  Her second attempt at stopping him worked. She was on her knees, wiggling her body between him and the other man. She forced him to his feet, then wrapped her arms around his waist. Behind her, her coworker slowly stood up, wiping blood from his chin.

  “You're fucking insane. You never said you had a boyfriend, Del! Who the fuck is this guy?” the man yelled at her.

  “This is the guy who's gonna rip your fucking head off!” Jon yelled back, pulling at Delaney's arms, trying to break free. Wanting to finish what he'd started.

  “Just stop! Let it go,” she hissed. He stared down at her for a second.

  “Let it go? He fucking touched you.”

  “Whatever. She's just a fucking bitch-tease, anyway,” her coworker swore.

  There was no stopping Jon after that – he surged forward, dragging Delaney along with him like she was nothing more than a weight belt. The other man gave a shout, then started running down the street.

  “He's gone. He's gone! Please, stop,” Delaney begged, trying to get her feet back under her.

  Jon finally stopped moving and she pulled herself upright, stepping away from him at the same time. Her umbrella had fallen to the ground in the struggle and her scarf was loose, most of it hanging down her back.

  “Who the fuck was he?” Jon asked, gasping for air.

  “He's a bartender at work. What are you doing here?”

  “Has he ever tried shit like that before?”

  “Jon.”

  “I'll fucking kill him if he has.”

  “Jon!” she shouted his name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  He blinked at her outburst, then glanced around. What was he doing? Jesus, what had just happened? He looked down at his knuckles and hissed.

  “Shit,” he grumbled, looking at the scratches and bleeding. How was he going to hide that from Kitty?

  “Were you following me?” Delaney demanded. He looked over at her.

  “Yeah, I was,” he answered honestly. Her jaw dropped.

  “How dare you! Why?” she asked.

  “Why? Why? Because you won't speak to me, that's why! What the fuck is going on? You can't just do that!” he yelled at her. Now it was her turn to look startled.

  “I ...” she seemed to be searching for words. “I've been busy.”

  “Bullshit. What happened? Last time I saw you, everything was fine.”

  And it had been. He'd asked her to come ov
er to look at the stuff he'd had on him when he'd gone to the hospital. The hemp necklace, she'd explained, had been a gift from a guy named Crash. The earrings were a pair he'd always worn, she'd never seen him without them. And the mood ring? She'd looked down at the matching one she wore, stared at it for a long time. Then she'd calmly told him it was one of those sacred memories she wasn't prepared to share yet. Someday she would, but not that day. Then they'd watched TV, with her reminding him what his favorite shows had been, and she'd left with a promise to have coffee the next day.

  We were fine. What happened to us?

  “It was fine,” she agreed, nervously tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ears. “And then ... it wasn't. I'm sorry.”

  “You're sorry?” he gaped at her. “Sorry!? You were just gone! My only link to real life, and you just disappeared! Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

  She shocked him by bursting out laughing.

  “Is that a fucking joke? Yes, JON, I know exactly what that feels like! Only unlike you, my person disappeared and I have to see a copy of him every single day! So imagine what that fucking feels like!” she was shrieking by the end, shaking with anger.

  “A copy?” he shouted. The rain was coming down in sheets now, soaking them, but he barely even noticed. “Do you know what that feels like? To not be a real person? To not be whole?”

  “Yes, Jon. Yes, I know what it feels like to not be whole.”

  Now he was really angry. He made slashing motions with his arms.

  “You have no idea what this feels like! What it's been like for me! I have nothing!” he shouted, pounding on the side of his head. “Not a goddamn thing, except a scar and fog! Months and months of fog, wondering if anyone cared about me!”

  She moaned and stepped closer to him.

  “I cared about you,” she cried. “I swear, I did.”

  “Not enough to fucking find me! To stay with me! I was all alone!” he kept yelling. She grabbed onto his jacket.

  “You were never alone,” she promised. “Every day you were scared, I was scared, too. Every day you felt alone, I was alone, too.”

  “Not the same,” he growled, pulling away from her. “And then you do show up, and everything is so fucked up, because I can't remember you, but I can feel you, and what were we, even?”

  “We were perfect,” she whispered, starting to shiver. He barked out a laugh.

  “Perfect? We were fucking homeless drug addicts! A couple more months, and one of us would've probably overdosed! And look at us now,” he said. She shook her head.

  “Please, don't do this,” she begged.

  “You have a good job, you live in a nice place, you look great. And people actually think I'm a good guy, that I'm productive and smart. We were horrible together.”

  “Don't say that,” she cried, bringing her hands to her face.

  It was then he noticed it. She wasn't wearing the mood ring anymore. A tidal wave of sadness and loneliness crashed over him.

  I wish I could forget all over again.

  “We're fucking better off without each other,” he informed her, raking his hands through his wet hair. “We were toxic. We just made each other worse. I probably saved both our lives when I fell on those train tracks. I'm glad I forgot us.”

  The biggest lie I've ever told in my whole life.

  Delaney's hands dropped from her face and anger flashed in her eyes. She was soaked from the rain, but he was pretty sure most of the dampness on her face was from tears.

  “How dare you say that to me,” she said, trembling all over. “You know what? You can just forget me all over again, because you aren't half the man Jayson Fairbanks was. You go back to your ivory towers and your blonde princesses. You go back to your fog. Because you know what? I was wrong, you're not him. He was never afraid of anything, and all I see when I look at you is a scared little boy. I hate you! You killed him, and I hate you!”

  “Oh, get fucked! How can you hate someone you don't even know? And you're right, I'm not him, so stop fucking comparing me to him! He's gone! Get over it!” he shouted.

  She slapped him across the face, hard, then whirled around, losing her scarf in the process. She started walking away, holding up her middle finger in the air as she went.

  “Suck on that!”

  For some reason, for just a split second, he wanted to laugh. It was somehow so her to end a fight like that, and yet ... he didn't know what was “so” her.

  Then the anger was back and he let out an enraged shout, kicking over a trash can. He hurried away from her in the opposite direction, almost jogging.

  Fuck her. You don't even know her. She was just someone you used to do drugs with, disgusting. It was probably nothing. How could it be anything? She sits there and smiles while you hold hands with Kitty. How could anyone who is something sit through that with a smile?

  He got to the next intersection and kicked the light post. A couple walking by gave him a strange look and he was tempted to shout at them. What did they know, anyway? What right had they to look so happy when everything in the world was shit? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. What right did she have to take away his memories? It wasn't his fault he couldn't remember her. He'd tried, he'd really tried. How could she hold that against him?

  He started running back down the way he'd come. Delaney hadn't gotten very far – he watched as she picked up her umbrella and fought with it. It didn't seem to be opening, so she let out a shriek and threw it at a wall before continuing walking.

  “Wait!” he shouted when he was a couple buildings down from her. She increased her pace.

  “Fuck off!” she yelled back.

  “I said stop!”

  She whirled around, walking backwards.

  “What do you want!?” she screamed. “Stop haunting me!”

  He ran right into her, almost bowling her over. He grabbed at her jacket, holding her in place before she could run away. She struggled against his grip, pushing and slapping at him.

  “Stop it!” he growled, finally wrapping his arms around her and picking her up. She squirmed while he hauled her around.

  “Don't touch me!” she shouted, getting an arm free and hitting him in the shoulder. “You don't ever get to touch me again!”

  Those words. They cut a slice right through his soul. Not touch Delaney? Not possible. So while she struggled and slapped and cried, he did the only thing that made sense.

  He kissed her.

  “No,” she sobbed against his mouth. “Please. Don't do this to me. Stop.”

  “I can't,” he breathed back, thrusting his fingers into her hair.

  They fell back against a wall, damp bodies pressed together. He felt her hands on his back, inside his jacket. Warm palms against wet fabric. Setting him on fire. They stumbled to the side, into a sliver of an alley. A rain gutter dumped a torrent of water next to them, soaking his pant leg, but he didn't care.

  This is what it feels like to be whole again.

  He tilted her face straight up and feasted on her mouth. God, it felt like coming home. She moaned around his tongue and her fingernails dug into his back. It sent shock waves of recognition up and down his spine.

  I know this woman.

  She was gasping and pulling at his shirt, untucking it from his pants. He was shoving at her jacket, forcing it off her shoulders. Then his hands were over breasts that were made to fit his palms. He was kissing lips that had been sculpted to match his own. Everything in his body was telling him exactly how right this moment was, how he was finally, finally, out of the fog.

  I don't want to let this moment go. Please, just let me remember for a little while longer.

  They moved out of the alley and kissed on the side of the street while he flagged down a taxi. They pawed at each other while in the backseat, shedding their jackets as they rode to his hotel. He picked her up and pressed her against the wall in the elevator, and her legs wrapped around him like that's where they belonged.

 
They crashed into his hotel room, the door banging off the wall behind it. He didn't even lift his mouth from hers, just kicked the door shut behind them and immediately started unbuttoning his soaked dress shirt. She dropped to the floor and helped him along, yanking at the wet material till it fell from his arms.

  “I didn't mean it,” he breathed. “Any of it. I'm not glad. I wish ... I wish I could remember everything. I want to. I'm so sorry.”

  “It's okay, I know you didn't mean it,” she assured him. “And I don't hate you. You didn't kill anyone. You're right here.”

  “It's not okay,” he replied, finally yanking his undershirt free of his head and letting it drop to the ground. “And I know you don't hate me. You'd have to hate him, too, because we're the same.”

  “You're so different,” she whispered in the darkness, her fingertips trailing up his abs.

  “You feel exactly the same,” he whispered back, running his hand up her smooth back.

  “You don't remember.”

  “No, but I remember this.”

  He lightly pressed his lips to hers, savoring the moment. She sighed against him, then the moment was over. Her tongue was between his lips, touching all the right spots, and her hands were on his belt.

  When his slacks fell to his feet, she hurried away from him, struggling to pull off her own pants. She was fighting to kick the soaked material away from her feet when he came up behind her. She had one hand on the bed, to steady herself, and she was looking down. He gently ran his hand over her tattoo, dragged his fingers down between her shoulder blades to her ass, then back up again. Thought about all the things he wanted to do to her, then how he shouldn't. He couldn't. He would be too much. Too intense. Too fast.

  This is Delaney. Nothing is too much for her.

  He abruptly shoved her forward, keeping his palm flat on her back. She landed on the mattress, bent over the edge of it. She moaned and arched her hips back towards him, then stretched her arms above her head.